


at the edge of the cliff

by loosingletters



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Character Study, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Padmé Amidala Still Dies, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters
Summary: Anakin Skywalker doesn’t fall when Sidious asks him to. But he still very nearlydid.Or, how to live with the consequences of the right choice when it leaves you feeling hollow, still only a step away from the dark.
Relationships: Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 39
Kudos: 233





	at the edge of the cliff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghost_Owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Owl/gifts).



> This is a gift for you dear Clary!
> 
> We talked about how last minute ROTS fix-its like to pretend that everything is just fixed, but Anakin still nearly fell? Almost made the wrong choice. So here I am discussing it.

You are standing at an edge, behind you the cliff, in front of you the open plane set aflame. You can take a step back into free fall and save the woman you love; you can take a step forward and keep your feet on the ground.

Your name is _Skywalker_ but you do not have a pair of wings.

You take a step forward; the woman you love more than the galaxy dies, and, for the briefest of moments, you turn around and throw yourself over the cliff in a running leap.

You don't fall, you are caught by roots older than yourself, vines pulling you up, and golden flowers grow where your burned skin touches the earth. You scream and rage and cry, can't find any peace at all, not even in the arms of your loved ones because she is _dead, dead, dead_ , and you could have saved her, but you chose to abandon her instead.

Your heart roars like a dragon and you want to swallow the world whole. You were your mother's son, your Master's apprentice, and your wife's husband. All the parts of yourself that used to be a child of a desert already broke away and now the sweet meadows of Naboo are turning into barren fields.

Your wife is dead, the Jedi are not. Thousands of lights surround you, but you still feel as if you were stumbling in the dark.

You are still standing at the edge of a fall, but you are standing and not drowning. It should be enough, but it isn't.

The war ends without you (with you right in the middle of it.)

Three Masters are dead, the Council is down by a quarter and you are no help because you are still contemplating the _what if_ , caught in a moment you can't change.

You do not attend your wife's funeral because you have two children to care for and the wind still rushes through your hair, urging you to look around. The flowers create a pathway to Naboo for you, but you don't dare to walk it, not even when gentle rain falls down your face when all your tears have already run out.

The war has ended, and you have never been more exhausted. Nobody told you that life could be this hollow and the only reason you get up in the morning are your children. Were you not grieving (but this can't be grief, you have grieved before and it was never as all-consuming as this), you would laugh at the fact that you and your wife were both right, but all you can think of when holding your children is that you don't even know their names. When your Master asks for them, you don't have a reply for him, only more tears, and so you spend another day.

You do not name your children, not really.

You are too shaken, too close to asking which name you would carry at the very bottom of the sea you could have fallen into. With more patience and kindness than you deserve, your Master helps you navigate the garden you have been gifted and shows you choices with the same gentle voice that he has always sung sweet lullabies for you.

Your Master returns with a notebook filled with struck out names and you pick _light_ and _moon_ and let him wrap you in his robes as if you were nine and not nine times 2 and a half chances of getting it right.

You don't dare to take your eyes off your son and your daughter and you don't know whether that isn't the same as looking into the abyss. You can barely keep yourself from lashing out at all that hold them and still you are praised when you do so with soft hymns and never-ending warmth.

Your Padawan returns, head held high and so full of sunlight that you can feel the flowers grow, wrap around your ankles and legs, stuff your throat so you won't cry in front of her. She laughs victoriously and grins like a predator at Maul because _she was right_. She is no longer your child, no longer innocent, but she does not know the depths to which you have fallen and you want to keep it this way.

Maul only tilts his head and laughs at you because he _knows_.

In his _treason-gold-fire_ eyes, you see your reflection, how you are barely standing. You return your apprentice's hug and listen to her story, introduce her to your son and your daughter, and reassure her you are _fine, fine, fine._

You don't walk to your Master's bed in the middle of the night and you do not sleep in your own. Instead, you sit at your children's crib, _grief-regret-forget-me-not_ blue eyes staring at your hands. Too easily they could have become stained with _red-blood-end-justifies-the-means_ and it scares you more than anything because flowers are fragile and only bloom for a moment, but you'd try to keep them year-round anyway.

The thoughts linger and bury themselves in your mind, fingers pressing into the earth and breaking as they are buried alive.

Your Master enters your room and doesn't even hesitate to pull you to your feet and to your bed. He helps you undress and you cling to him because you don't know how to fill the canyons where there used to be love. You can feel the fear, the anger, the suffering, and the hate threatening to wash it out like a tidal wave.

You want to apologize, but you only hide your face away in his chest and try to breathe as you did when the sand nearly swallowed you up. He runs his fingers through your hair, intertwines like ivy around a tree trunk, but you can only think of the poison and you do not want to ruin him as well.

You do not want to ruin _them_.

You fall asleep with your mind already made up and you dream of nothing. No nightmare haunts you anymore, but you might fear this emptiness even more, being a ghost in your own body.

In the morning, as early as the sun rises, you leave your children with the others. You kiss them sweet goodbye when their eyes are still closed and they do not know of your path.

You hear them cry out for you when you walk down the hallway. Their whimpers reach your ears, reach your mind and you cannot cut the bond you have with them because you love them, but you can't be there for them.

You sink to your knees anyway, pressing your hands against your ears, begging for the lightning to stop cracking in your ears, tempting you to make the _wrong-right-maybe_ decision.

There near the temple wall you remain until your Master comes to pick you up, calling your terms of endearment your tattered heart does not deserve, foolishly as it beats. He guides you back to your children even when you beg him not to, try to make him understand that it was _all for them_.

He looks at you strangely, an expression full of loss and failure, and you don't know how to tell him that it was not his fault, never. He did all he could, and this is the culmination of all your choices.

Even when he talks about _letting go_ and being _let go of_ , you still can't follow his words because you do not understand the difference between justification and sacrifice.

All you know is that the war is over and yet your mind fights for survival.

Your name is Anakin Skywalker.

You are standing at the edge of a cliff and you can hear the darkness scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you liked it! I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
